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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23247316">the tiny, infinitesimal probability of hope</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_mab/pseuds/lady_mab'>lady_mab</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>RQG Femslash Week 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Study, Gen, Light Angst, as a treat, spoilers for Rome Arc, we can have little a angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:40:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,043</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23247316</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_mab/pseuds/lady_mab</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I can't fill the broken pieces of me with something new -- because what if you come back? What if I just need to wait a little bit longer? </p><p>(RQG Femslash week Day 3: Missed Opportunities)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>RQG Femslash Week 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672624</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>RQG Femslash Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the tiny, infinitesimal probability of hope</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Azu studies her palm, the way the thin layer of water dances, the way the light catches on the ripples and turns her skin almost impossibly golden. She turns her hand over, watches the way the scars are obscured, the way her nails look softer and the edges of her blur. </p><p>She sits like this until the pads of her fingers wrinkle and the cold becomes unbearable. Which is an incredibly long time, but eventually she does. Hamid left a while ago -- she could hear his faint footsteps on the other side of the partition. </p><p>Neither of them spoke, and she's okay with that.</p><p>On numb feet, Azu shuffles back into the room and begins the slow, methodical process of getting dressed. It's easier to digest in bits and pieces. On habit, she recites a prayer to Aphrodite as she does this, and for the first time in a week -- hell, <em>longer</em> -- there's an answering warmth that almost is enough to break her. </p><p>They were gone <em>a year and a half</em>. It's starting to actually feel that way, the weight of it crashing down onto her bones now that she has a moment where she's not on edge -- where she's not wearing any armor. </p><p>The warmth grows and blossoms and tears prickle behind her eyes as she scrambles through her meager belongings for her necklace. The metal heart feels like relief against her palm, a rush of calm and a comforting hand against her head as Aphrodite's presence floods her. </p><p>A week in a metal cage, cut off from her goddess. Time twisted and corrupted in the place between worlds. The cold absence of absolutely anything familiar in Rome.</p><p>And it all comes crashing back in waves of emotion -- of joy at reunion, of sorrow at parting, of relief and concern and fear and painandworthlessnessandforgivenessandloveandsorrowandsorrowandsorrow-- </p><p>Azu doubles over, muffling the sob against the back of her hand. "Gracious lady Aphrodite," she tries, voice trembling and tears on her cheeks. "Please. <em>Please</em>, is she okay--"</p><p>
  <em>Is Sasha okay?</em>
</p><p>There is the feeling of a hand on her cheek, of a kiss on her brow, and Azu knows the taste of the pain before she hears the response. <em>Oh my golden lamb, my dearest</em> , Aphrodite says. <em>I cannot find her. She is where I cannot go.</em> </p><p>She knew. A part of her knew, the moment they landed back in Rome. When she saw her empty hand and the space between her and Vesseek, of that look on Bi Ming's face. But then they had to keep moving. They couldn't stop. They pushed and pushed for hours until they were in Japan and locked in a cell and Azu felt that part connection to her goddess break, and the numbness set in. </p><p><em>There will be time to mourn later</em>, she thought. In private, with her goddess to comfort her. </p><p>A week of trying to ignore it, of Hamid's murmured platitudes and comforts, <em>they'll be alright,</em> because they have to be. Sasha and Grizzop <em>have to be okay</em> or all of this was pointless, wasn't it? </p><p>Azu's hands are clenched so tightly into fists that the heart charm bites into her palm, and that's easier to handle than the vacant space in her chest. All she had to do was hold on. If she had been better -- stronger, more capable, closer -- then maybe this would have been different. </p><p>That Sasha would still be here, sulking in the corner of the room. That next door, Grizzop and Hamid would be arguing over something so mundane in the grand scheme of things. But it wouldn't be so quiet. That Sasha would still be here. That she would feel like she didn't like Sasha down. </p><p>And Sasha would be sticking knives into things she shouldn't, that she would look at all the food with that same wide-eyed sense of wonder she did at any meal, that she would be right there, just out of sight, but Azu would know. Would be able to feel that presence and know that every angle was covered. </p><p>The comforting presence of a dear friend, who had fought alongside her, who had come back to consciousness beneath her healing hands, who had spoken with a practicality that belied her desperation. </p><p>The room is too quiet, too empty, and she doesn't know how long she'll be able to keep a hold on everything until she snaps. </p><p>"Hamid?" she calls, voice breaking on the syllables of the name, and the door to his room opens immediately -- as if he was right there, waiting, wondering if he shouldn't also call out to her. </p><p>His face is pinched, but true to form his hair is immaculate. The provided yukata has even been transformed into his preferred colors, and there is such a degree of familiarity in it that Azu isn't too sure if she laughs or sobs at it. But then he's across the room and his arms are around her shoulders as far as they can go. </p><p>"I'm sorry, Azu," he says into her shoulder. "We have to keep going." </p><p>"I know," she answers, her hand on his back, reassuring herself of his presence. </p><p>"When this is all over, if… if we still haven't found them…" </p><p>Azu aches with the truth, knowing that the possibility is that Sasha and Grizzop won't be found, but is comforted by Hamid's determination to cling to the tiny, infinitesimal probability of hope. "We will honor them as best we can." </p><p>He nods, drawing back and wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. The traces of tears disappear, and when he smiles, it's wan but honest. "Do you want to eat? Zolf brought some food by a bit ago." </p><p>She is starving, but there's still one more thing to do before she is ready, before the last broken pieces of her are put away into a box for safe keeping. "Can you help me with my hair?" </p><p>His eyes jump up to the top of her head, where the dark curly bristles are becoming more visible. "I'm no good with hair," he admits. "I do mine by magic." </p><p>"Then just hold the mirror. I just… I don't…" She doesn't know how to say it, but Hamid understands all the same. </p>
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